Alone by Tiffany Lovering Page A

Section. Just a simple acrylic of a few books that stood out in the Mystery Section of my high school library. I showed her the first paintbrush I had ever bought, now completely ruined from too much use. The calligraphy pen that was used only a few times, it wasn't something I was able to master. A small reminder of one of my many failures. There was also a Polaroid of my mother looking frustrated on the couch that I had taken when I was thirteen. It was the only photo I had kept of her, and I wasn't entirely sure why.
    Sara just sat there listening most of the time. Only asking questions that would make me reveal something a little more personal about myself. Too personal sometimes, but I still answered.
    “ And this is the knife you use?” Sara asked matter of fact as she picked it up. I nodded. “Why don't you just get rid of it? It might suppress the temptation you know.”
    “ It's not that easy. If it were, I would've gotten rid of it a long time ago,” I said taking the knife and putting it back in the box and put the cover back on. Once the box was away in the closet, we decided to continue the conversation in the living room.
    “ You know Willow, tomorrow is Open Mic,” she said taking her spot on the sofa.
    “ Oh yeah?” I asked disinterested.
    “ Yes, and I think you should go.”
    “ I can't.”
    “ Why not?”
    I sighed, “I already explained the issue I have with music.” This was not a conversation I wanted to be having. “I don't allow myself to be influenced by other people's art. I wouldn't feel like it's mine.”
    She contemplated that for a moment and said, “That's not entirely true.”
    “ Uh, yes it is. I haven't seen a TV show or listened to music in almost ten years.”
    She pointed at the painting of the organ and said, “What inspired this?”
    “ Mrs. Schneider, she plays the organ at...” Sara raised her eyebrows at me. “That's different,” I defended. “I can't fully avoid music. When she plays, everyone in New Jollie hears it.”
    “ How does it make you feel when she plays?”
    “ Peaceful,” I admitted.
    “ What do you think people feel when they look at your art?”
    “ I have no idea.”
    “ People feel emotions when they look at what you've created. Who knows if it's the same emotion you felt when you painted the picture? The fact is, you draw out people's emotions with what you do. That's why your work sells so quickly.”
    “ I thought we were talking about Open Mic,” I said trying to put an end to the topic.
    “ We are. Don't you see? Just because you might be inspired by a song doesn't mean that whatever you create because of that inspiration isn't yours. Because really, isn't it the emotion you feel and not specifically Mrs. Schneider's playing that inspires you?”
    I had to internalize that for a minute before I could respond. “It is the emotion, but I wouldn't feel that emotion if she wasn't playing.”
    “ okay. So, if you felt so strongly about not letting other people's art influence you, why did you paint the organ?”
    She had me there. There was no way I could argue that point. “It just feels wrong somehow. I guess I can't explain it,” was my feeble defense.
    “ I'm not telling you to go out and buy a stereo and a collection of CD’s. Just don't close yourself off to new experiences because you're afraid it will affect your art. If it affects your work in some way, embrace it and run with it. Don't be disappointed in yourself because of it. You let other things affect your work, so what's the difference if it's a song or someone's words? It might actually be a good thing, or do you regret purchasing that camera? You know you wouldn't have gone and tried photography if I hadn't planted the idea in your head, so I influenced your art,” she smiled proudly knowing she had won the debate.
    I smiled back, she definitely knew how to plead her case. “I do like the camera, although I don't have any idea how any of the pictures will come